Warg Maiden

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones

Chapter 53: Dragons

Imogen's POV

The following weeks were spent collecting dragonglass. Missandei has been an excellent help as she translated for us with the Dothraki, who have stayed behind. There have been a few accidents, but more on not handling the dragonglass than falling in pits of the cavern. As it was clear, the Dothraki were not miners or experienced hard labor. They were warriors.

I would spend time in the Children's cavern. I found a sense of peace here. I don't know why I felt off when I was in the castle. It was unique because it was designed for an era and an empire that has long been nearly forgotten. As a dynasty of the Targaryens lingers. And yet, it was hallowed. Void of any life except for Aegon's Garden. Here, I felt security knowing the past is not forgotten.

Ser Davos managed to grab a journal and charcoal sticks, suggesting I sketch these drawings and runes before they get destroyed. Even though Jon promised he would try to guide the men in harvesting carefully, there is no doubt that many will be damaged. Therefore, under torchlight, I tried my best to draw the runes.

Sometimes, Ser Davos or Jon would take a break and join me. With Ser Davos, I tell him about the Children and old stories of the First Men. As for Jon, we continue to practice in Old Tongue. I don't know why, but I feel comfortable being alone with Jon without thinking about the Great War. Jon seemed to be at ease as well.

When we are not in the cave, we rest in our chambers. We even managed to sneak Skadi in after we realized the route from one door to our quarters was large and wide enough for her. As she mainly took refuge in the main room. Although Ser Davos made it clear, we all must eat supper together no matter how tired we are. Therefore, in the main room, we gather around to eat. Ser Davos leading the conversation. On occasion, Missandei would attend.

Until one night, Missandei had gotten curious.

"Imogen, you are a Wildling," Missandei noted.

Ser Davos and Jon tensed when she said that as they watched me.

I took a deep breath, "My people and I prefer the term Free Folk."

"Is Wildling a derogatory word?" she asked.

"In a way, yes," I answered. "As people of the Seven Kingdoms called us from the south side of the Wall."

Missandei nodded as she took this information in, "Do your people speak the Common Tongue alone?"

"No, though it is our main language," I said. "We also speak in Old Tongue, the language of the First Men."

"May I have an example of a word?" she asked.

Missandei was an interpreter; as she mentioned in a previous meal, she could speak nineteen languages.

"Skagos," I replied.

Missandei paused as she listened to the word. "What does that mean?"

"Stone," I answered.

"Skagos," she repeated, analyzing the language. "Can you say it in a sentence?"

I paused to try to think of a sentence since Jon is a beginner in the language. Therefore, I can't give an insult. So, I based the facts as I stared at Missandei. "I have never seen your skin before that is the shade of freshly cut bark."

Missandei listened to the words, though she did not understand: "Old Tongue is such a coarse language, harsh and clanging. It's almost like the Dothraki. What did you say?"

"Jon, care to translate," I challenged him.

Jon sat up straight, "Uh…she complimented your skin to that of…tree bark."

Missandei blinked a few times and glanced at me, "Well, I doubt my people have gone over the Wall."

I shrugged, "There were ninety tribes…majority descended from the First Men. Although, Andals blood had seeped in from wife stealing."

"Wife Stealing?" Missandei asked.

I chuckled, shaking my head, "A marriage custom that is a common practice among my people."

"I am intrigued to learn your customs and practices," she continued.

I shook my head, "There are too many and many sacred things not to share."

"I understand," she concluded, taking a sip of wine. "Although, Imogen is your only name?'

"The Free Folk don't use last names; some tribes do, but not many," I explained.

"How come?" she asked.

I leaned back. " The names of our ancestors can hold a stigma. Therefore, we stopped using them, and many have forgotten their main name."

All eyes were on me.

"My name is Imogen, daughter of the Magnar Fenrir of the Dires and Boudica, Priestess of Lunar Haven," I said with a reassuring smile. "One must honor the parent that sired us."

That seemed to convince Missandei.

When Missandei left, Ser Davos retired while I stayed in the main room with Skadi. Sitting on the cold stone while leaning against her, we watched the fire. I have to be careful not to expose myself as a Stark. I even wrapped cloth around my neck to cover my maiden mark. I don't like covering it up, but seeing the tensions, I do so. No one needs to know about Kilan's bloodline. Not the wild Starks.

Jon came over as he set more wood in the fire.

I watched him, observing how he was able to mask his emotions—unless you count brooding as a mask.

"How much dragonglass do we need to get?" I asked.

Jon sighed as he set another log. "We might only get a ship's worth unless Daenerys can lend us a ship or two."

I sighed, "It would be nice to go back to the North soon."

"Agreed," he replied. "Though you were enjoying the weather."

I chuckled softly, for it was nice to feel the warm weather outdoors. "It's still not home."

Jon nodded in agreement, "I just hope Sansa and Rickon haven't burned Winterfell to the ground."

I chuckled again, shaking my head, "Doubt it. Sansa…she knows what she is doing."

"Aye, she does," he agreed.

"She would make a good shieldmaiden," I added.

"Shieldmaiden?" he asked.

"A Shieldmaiden is like a spearwife, but they do not travel but stay in their tribe's territory, protecting their homes," I answered. "My mother was a Shieldmaiden. Before she became a priestess."

Jon nodded as he took this information in.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I just hope I left enough protection for her and Rickon." He answered as he took a poker and adjusted the flames. "I trust Lady Brienne and Podrick, along with Lord Royce. But Lord Baelish."

"Lord Baelish?" I said the name, trying to put a face to that name. "The man who looks like a rat."

Jon chuckled when I said that, "He does have those features."

I smiled slightly, then asked, "What about him?"

"He says he loves Sansa," he said.

I stared at Jon. Although I have not socially talked to Lord Baelish, I have seen him in his corner, seeing the way he looked at Sansa. It was unsettling. Not a man who is infatuated by her or some sort of feelings. It was…disturbing. Almost predatory.

"Isn't he old enough to be her father," I grumbled.

Jon nodded, "I think he loves her being a Lady of the North."

I nodded in agreement, as Sansa was Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Tully's daughter. Currently, she is in charge of the North. If anything were to happen to Jon, then she would be Regent until Rickon comes of age.

"Why don't you just kill him?" I asked.

Jon heaved a heavy sigh, "It's not that simple."

"The laws of men," I guessed. "Or the laws of gods?"

"Both, maybe," he murmured as he turned to face me. "I have a feeling he had a part in my father's death. Maybe in the previous war."

"The war of the five kings?" I asked to clarify.

Jon nodded again.

"Power, it is a dangerous thing," I murmured, petting Skadi's fur. "One who seeks power through others' suffering shall die by their hands."

A frown formed on Jon's face when I said that.

"And who said that?"

"Leaf," I answered. "She saw how corrupt those who have sought power and watched them fall."

Jon nodded again.

I stared at Jon as he turned his attention to the fire. There was a part of me that wanted to provide comfort. However, I doubt I can give him what he asks. I'm not feminine. My eyes widened in realizing such a thought. As I see the light of the flames dance along Jon's face.

I took a deep breath, scolding myself.

This was Jon.

There was no point in having feelings for someone who didn't see me as more than an ally and friend.

As death was near.

.o0o.

Jon's POV

After spending the morning in the mines, Jon decided to go on a walk. Once more, he asked Imogen to join him along with Skadi. They managed to get to the top side as they walked along the ridge of the cliffs, which was a field away from the castle. They stopped at the edge, watching the dragons fly about—in this case, the green dragon.

Missandei had informed them of each of the dragon's names. The green one was Rhaegal, named after Rhaegar. The golden dragon was Viserion, named after Viserys. Meanwhile, the black dragon was named Drogon. Lastly, Jon knew there were no Targaryens at the time whose name starts with the letter D, unlike the Mother of Dragons, whose name doesn't seem to match. Until Missandei explained that Drogon was named after Daenerys's late husband, Drogo. A once Dothraki Horse Lord.

That seemed to make sense.

It had been two weeks, and Jon assumed the battle against the Lannisters in the Reach had already happened. A part of him wonders how Daenerys will address the men who surrender. His thoughts linger back to the Battle of the Bastards. It was not his proudest moment, one he would have to take to his grave.

Although many would see it as a success, as they saved Rickon and reclaimed Winterfell, so many lives have been lost. Jon glanced at Imogen, who stared out to the bay. There was so much he owed to her for saving Rickon and making the sacrifice in Frigg. They barely talk about the Snowy Owl. Yet the cry Imogen made with Frigg was shot by Ramsay in an attempt to kill Rickon. The aftermath after the battle…seeing her in such a state only to faint once more, not waking up for days.

Jon wasn't sure what was worse, the seizures from a vision or experiencing death without dying.

Jon knew how death felt. He could feel the numbness in his scars, taunted by the black void. It was something he did not wish on his worst enemy. His views on religion had been altered. Not like the Seven, where one's soul can either go to one of the seven realms of the heavens or the seven hells. A void of darkness was never mentioned in the scriptures. As for the Old Religion, death means being one with nature, being one with the Old Gods.

Maybe it was mercy from the gods to not confront the demons of his past. To not confront the men he has failed, along with his father and brother. Most of all, Ygritte. Thinking of Ygritte has lessened the pain, as her name no longer taunts him. She will always have a place in his heart as his first love, but he needs to move on.

He watched Imogen staring at the horizon with a serene expression.

A wild beauty, Jon thought

A wild beauty he should not have.

For he was unworthy.

Imogen then spoke in Old Tongue. Though harsh the language was, the way she said it brought a sense of peace. Jon managed to translate words of frequent use, along with wind, winter, and spring. As much as he tried to learn the language, it was still complicated.

"Mind saying that in Common Tongue," Jon asked softly.

"Just something the Children said to me in their tongue, to which I say it in Old Tongue," Imogen murmured. "Take root in the ground. Live in harmony with the wind. Plant your seeds in the winter. And rejoice with the birds in the coming of spring."

"Sadly, no one was prepared for this winter," Jon said.

"Such a cynic," Imogen replied.

"That is a new word for you," he gently teased.

"I may be a wildling, but I try to improve my vocabulary," She grumbled.

Jon chuckled, shaking his head. One thing he liked about her was her willingness to learn and her fascination with new things.

Suddenly, her expression changed with caution as she placed her hand on Skadi, who growled. Jon was confused until he saw the cause as Rhaegal made his way over. At first, Jon thought Rhaegal would fly overhead, which the dragon did. The green dragon swooped down as they ducked and almost were knocked over.

Jon hated that as he glared at the dragon that had landed before them. Skadi tensed, her furs bristling. Imogen tried to calm her down without showing any panic. Meanwhile, Jon paused, for he sensed something. He couldn't quite explain it.

Rhaegal crawled closer to Jon, sniffing the air around him. Jon was hesitant, unsure what to do, as Rhaegal's lips curled, revealing his dark teeth. Curious, though cautious, Jon removed his glove and slowly stretched his hand out, shaking to the core. Rhaegal stepped closer, sniffing his hand till the snarling stopped. Jon took it as a good sign and placed his hand on the dragon's snout. It felt like scaly patches of leather, warm and cold at the same time.

Jon was amazed, petting a dragon for the first time. As he continued to pet Rhaegal, he stared into the dragon's amber eyes, sensing a connection, the same with Ghost.

He glanced over his shoulder, seeing the shock on Imogen's face.

"Say Dohaeras," Imogen said in a monotone voice. "Dohaeras, Rhaegal."

Jon's eyes widened wondering when Imogen found out about Valyrian.

Jon faced Rhaegal, his hand still on the dragon's snout. With much effort, he terribly said, "Dohaeras, Rhaegal. Dohaeras."

The feeling he felt a moment ago tightened, securing it. Jon could not describe the feeling, as if something locked inside him had been reawakened. His focus was on Rhaegal. Impossible to look away from the green dragon.

"Impossible," Imogen whispered.

Skadi growled, yet Imogen spoke in Old Tongue to soothe her familiar.

What did Imogen make him do?

A massive resounding shriek filled the sky as they looked up to see Drogon coming in. Quickly, Jon removed his hand, and Drogon landed on the other side of the field. Rhaegal pulled away yet remained close to Jon. Drogon crawled over to them, lowering his head and giving a small roar. Rhaegal gave a growl in warning. As if telling Drogon to knock it off. Drogon stopped before lowering himself to allow Daenerys down.

Daenerys approached them before Rhaegal and Drogon took off to the sky, joining Viserion at the bay. Jon wasn't sure if Daenerys saw what happened. That he unintentionally bonded with Rhaegal. It was something he would be quiet about until he confronted Imogen in private.

"Was that necessary?" Imogen asked, breaking the tension.

"Forgive me, the dragons have a mind of their own," Daenerys apologized, then turned her attention to the dragons flying around the bay. "They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"It wasn't the word I was thinking of, but…but yes, they are," Jon answered. "Gorgeous beasts."

"They're not beasts to me," Daenerys said. "No matter how big they get or how terrifying to everyone else. They're my children."

Jon thought she had lost her mind. When he got Ghost, he didn't see the runt of the pack as his son. No, he thought of Ghost as his friend. His brother. But to compare an animal to a personal child …didn't seem right. As he saw the same bond with Imogen

"You weren't gone long," Jon noted.

"No," Daenerys murmured with a disappointed expression.

"And?"

She looked at him, "And I have fewer enemies today than I did yesterday."

Jon didn't know how to respond to that comment. He was debating whether or not to ask her for the details. Imogen made her way over to them. A caution was written on her face, as they did not know what truly happened. As Imogen mentioned before, she had seen the Dance of Dragons. So, what could Daenerys have done with Drogon? Was it another Field of Fire?

"You're not sure how you feel about that," Daenerys murmured.

"No, I'm not," he said.

"How many men did your army kill taking Winterfell from the Boltons?" She asked as she started to walk.

Jon gestured for Imogen to follow, as she had with Skadi. He then went back to Daenerys and answered her question, "Thousands."

"We both want to help people. We can only help them from a position of strength. Sometimes strength is terrible," she said and looked at him. "When you first came here, Ser Davos said you took a knife in the heart for your people."

"Ser Davos gets carried away," Jon lied.

"So, it was a figure of speech?" She questioned.

Jon sighed, shaking his head until he heard footsteps approaching. The three turned to see four Dothraki riders escorting a man. One of the leading generals, Kovarro, couldn't help but smile. Kovarro spoke in Dothraki, revealing the man. The man was burly, middle-aged, with fine fair hair balding slightly and a stubble beard. He wore travelers' clothes, a dark gambeson, and cloak.

Daenerys smiled, a genuine smile, as she replied back in Dothraki.

The man came forth and kneeled before Daenerys.

"Your Highness," the man said with a slight Northern accent.

He then stood up, noticing that the Khaleesi had company. Blue eyes widen slightly as he prevents a scowl from showing.

"Jon Snow, Imogen, this is Ser Jorah Mormont, an old friend," Daenerys introduced.

"I served with your father," Jon said. "He was a great man."

Imogen was tense yet kept her composure. No doubt, Imogen realized Ser Jorah was the son of the late Jeor Mormont. Jon glanced at her, assuring her that all was safe and that nothing would happen to her. Although Lord Commander Mormont was neutral towards the Free Folk, there were some decisions Lord Mormont made that drew caution from the Wildling Huntress.

"You look strong. You found a cure?" Daenerys asked, pleased.

"I wouldn't be here if I hadn't," Ser Jorah answered.

"I return to your service, my queen, if you'll have me." Ser Jorah offered.

"It would be my honor," Daenerys smiled.

Daenerys nodded with a smile as she walked over to give him a hug. Ser Jorah returned the embrace by glancing at Jon and Imogen. It was as if they were testing the relationship between them and Daenerys. Jon stepped closer to Imogen, silently telling the older knight he was not interested in Daenerys in that way. Ser Jorah bobbed his head, taking the message that Jon was not that type of threat. Jon wasn't sure of the relationship between Daenerys and the older knight, but it was something he did not want a part of.

Afterward, they all made their way inside the castle.

They all went their separate ways as they reached the courtyard. Of course, Jon, Imogen, and Skadi took a different route that allowed the Direwolf inside their chamber. They were silent as they reached the solar, yet Jon waited until once inside, closed the door and locked it. He took Imogen's hand, dragging her to his room. Sensing this was not a threat, Skadi laid down by the fire.

Once in his room, he locked the door.

"What did you make me do?" Jon demanded quietly.

Imogen sighed as she yanked her hand away and created distance.

"Imogen, what did you make me do with Rhaegal?" he asked, being more specific. "Since when did you know Valyrian?"

Who was this woman? Jon thought to himself. Three languages he can understand of Common Tongue, Old Tongue, and the Children, but Valyrian.

"I don't speak Valyrian," Imogen clarrified, crossing her arms. "Bloodraven…he would read me texts in Valyrian and translate them. I know a few words and songs but don't speak it fluently."

Jon took a deep breath to regulate his frustration.

"And with Rhaegal?" he asked.

Imogen sighed, "I have seen many Targaryens and those with dragon's blood forge bonds with dragons. The same with Seasmoke…the behavior was there, so…I took a chance."

"With me," he accused. "What did you make me say?"

"Serve Rhaegal," Imogen translated. "Serve."

"Fuck," Jon groaned, he did not expect to bond with a dragon. And not any dragon, but one of Daenerys's dragons. She might kill them all if she finds out that he has become one of her dragon's riders.

"Jon," Imogen started, reaching out but stopped.

"What?" Jon heaved.

"Your father is Lord Eddard Stark?" she asked to confirm.

"Yes, he is," Jon confirmed.

"Do you know who your mother is?" she asked.

Jon shook his head, for he never got the answer.

"Jon, only those with Valyrian blood, from dragonlord blood, can bond with a dragon," she said carefully.

"What are you saying?" he asked.

"By any chance… could your mother have been a dragon seed or an ancestor related to…" she was trying to find the words.

By any chance, could he have descended from the Targaryens? The thought stunted him as he slouched against the wall. He knows bastards were common among the Targaryens in the last three hundred years. He doubts his mother is directly descended to House Targaryen through marriage. But could he be descended to the Targaryens from a dragon seed? Hence able to bond with Rhaegal.

Imogen came over and cradled his face, gently guiding his attention to hers. "You are the White Wolf. Never forget that."

Jon grasped her words. Even if his ancestor was a dragon seed of a Targaryen, it did not matter. He was still a bastard who was raised as a Stark. His blood was a mess, and yet no one in his family cared. He was King Jon Snow of the North. Not thinking, he pulled Imogen closer and hugged her. This startled Imogen, but after a moment, she hugged him back.

Jon needed this.

Despite this recollection of his maternal side of the family, he needed to be grounded in reality. That his ancestral past means nothing.

Only the people who care for him.

I know Jon being a dragon rider is one of my tropes. Oh well.

Quote about spring is from Castle in the Sky

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